


Distract My Heart From Missing You

by distress_and_disaRAE (RaeBLynn)



Series: First Things First [1]
Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, But it does later, Chronic Pain, Depression, First (Linked Universe) Deserved Better, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, Hylia's Chosen Hero Deserved Better, Link (Legend of Zelda) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Link has chronic pain, Linked Universe doesn't come up in this, Mental Health Issues, Misunderstandings, Physical Therapy, Recovery, Scars, This is actually beta read for once, mentions of hallucinations, mentions of war preparation, rated t just to be safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-21 22:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30028533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeBLynn/pseuds/distress_and_disaRAE
Summary: He was free. He’d been free for a week, and it still didn’t feel real. He should be happy, this was practically the only thing he’d wished for the past four years. (And goddesses, that had been a shock. It didn’t feel like it’d been four years at all, somehow the time he’d spent imprisoned and tortured felt shorter and at the same time so much longer.) But so much was wrong. The disaster he’d seen in visions was on its way to becoming a reality, Demise had attacked, the city was in ruins.Orville wouldn’t talk to him.
Relationships: Fewer hints of Hylia/Link (Legend of Zelda), Hints of Link/Orville (Legend of Zelda), Hylia's Chosen Hero & Hylia, Hylia's Chosen Hero & Orville (Legend of Zelda), Link & Hylia, Link & Orville (Legend of Zelda)
Series: First Things First [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2209044
Comments: 7
Kudos: 13





	Distract My Heart From Missing You

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo I may have gotten a bit obsessed with ask-lu-wild and then Linked Universe, and then with the Skyward Sword HD announcement made I got back into SS, and then the prequel manga and...
> 
> Well, basically, here we are. There will eventually be a larger fic with First and the LU boys, this is kinda a prequel to that. I decided to publish this separate from that fanfic mainly because I wasn't sure I'd be able to fit this into that one smoothly. I might do more one-shots taking place pre-SS though... there's a lot I want to explore with the characters, not all of which would fit into the main fanfic I'm planning.

Seven days had passed since they found Link beaten, bloody, and _alive_. Seven days since Orville had given him his sword. Seven days that Orville had spent carefully avoiding him.

It’s not that Orville didn’t want to talk to him. Quite the contrary, seeing Link again had been his greatest dream the past four years. Years of dreaming, and yet not once did he imagine _after_. What could Orville possibly say to him after four years of hell? “I’m glad to see you” felt too small to be right, and apologizing for the fight they’d had when they last spoke felt inadequate, especially when he still stood by it.

If anything he believed it even more, after years of wondering if Link was even still alive, thinking maybe if Link hadn’t thrown himself into the role of hero they could’ve had a few more years together before the war against Demise fully hit. Part of him had been furious with Link for not keeping his head down when he had the chance.

Orville hated himself a bit for being angry at Link at all, when he _knew_ that wasn’t fair. That stupid birthmark and the overeager citizens had thrown him into that role before he took it on himself. He couldn’t blame Link for going on a death mission before blaming the ones who sent him in the first place. But Dagianis and any others he may have blamed were dead now. His anger belonged to ghosts. And himself. 

(He must’ve been no more than five feet away when the armored guards grabbed him; he was so close, yet he couldn’t do anything. He _wouldn’t_ do anything. Four years of replaying that moment over and over, and he still didn’t know if it was fear or sense that held him back.)

Without words or the will to look Link in the eye, Orville kept himself to the sidelines after giving back the sword. He watched as Link was dressed in his old knight’s uniform, the one he wore with pride before the Demon King’s corruption in the court had been apparent, and as he stood before a gathering of people who cheered for a hero. (The same people who refused him so long ago, he thought bitterly). Someone must have found time to tailor the clothes between Link’s release and his appearance to the crowd because it fit him so well Orville doubted anyone who hadn’t known him four years ago would be able to tell just how thin he’d gotten. 

He watched as Link spoke of fighting for the land of Hylia with his eyes not on the crowd but on the mountains, and remembered a younger boy who’d spoken so passionately about that land that it made Orville want to believe in it too.

He watched as a crimson bird descended with a _literal goddess_ on its back, watched as Link talked back to a sacred bird, because of course he did, and received the aptly named ‘Goddess Sword’. He saw it as proof of what he’d always known: that Link was intended for a destiny far beyond the path of what a humble blacksmith could follow.

After that Link would often be seen in the company of the white goddess. He didn’t know how to feel about that, before reminding himself firmly that it was no longer his place to feel _anything_ where Link was concerned.

Orville did his best to keep to himself and his work on forging and repairing weapons for the fighting force that was slowly but surely being established. But his eyes couldn’t help but catch on any hint of green or red, and he held his breath ethereal white, not at the thought of seeing the goddess Hylia but at the possibility of the red scarf that would frequently follow.

Those glimpses never lasted long, and they always left Orville feeling a bit sick with the guilt squirming in his gut. He didn’t know if it was guilt for what happened four years ago, guilt for not having the courage to face Link again, or guilt for being angry at him. Probably a mix of all of them, things could never be simple when Link was involved.

Orville pushed aside the miscellaneous box he’d been struggling to make sense of for the past hour and let his head drop to the table. He was getting a headache. He probably wouldn’t be doing anymore organizing today. 

Not long after Hylia’s appearance they’d begun setting up a base of sorts in what was left of the city after Demise’s forces had ransacked it. Even half-destroyed it was the most easily defendable position they had at the moment. The children, elderly, and other vulnerable were evacuated to the most secure and intact areas, mostly the castle and the inner town, leaving the bulk of the ragtag army and essential personnel to set up tents in the outskirts of the city, including Orville. He felt like a refugee in his own city.

He winced, thinking of the folks he’d seen who were clearly from neighboring kingdoms. Many of those lands didn’t even exist anymore, thanks to Demise. They really _were_ refugees. At least he knew his home was still standing, even if it was damaged. At least he still had many of his possessions. At least he knew the people he loved were here. _At least Link was here._

Orville shoved that thought away, firmly deciding not to think of him. He sighed and propped his chin on his hands, eyeing the trinkets scattered on the table with no intention of cleaning up. Well, so much for not thinking of Link, he thought to himself bitterly when the first item to catch his attention was a familiar whetstone.

Link’s whetstone, to be exact. 

The one Orville had found left behind when Link was seized, one of the few items he managed to grab before Link’s room was crawling with knights tearing the place apart claiming to look for evidence that didn’t exist. The one Orville had given to Link early in his apprenticeship, excited to show off all the tricks he’d picked up on sharpening and cleaning swords. The one that Link had demanded he sign so he’d always know who gave it to him. He’d eventually relented after a brief argument over how stupid that was, agreeing as long as he could put down Link’s name too. It didn’t take long for him to decide carving ‘from Orville to Link’ would take too long, so in one corner of the whetstone was carved ‘O for L’.

He must have forgotten to give it back with the sword. Shit. It probably didn’t even matter, it’s not like whetstones weren’t common. Still, he hadn’t mended and cared for that sword for four years to let its blade get damaged now.

He was glad he’d watched Link so much, because it meant he knew Link would be with Garbhan now. He could just pop over to Link’s empty tent and leave it there for him to find later. His mind made up, he grabbed the whetstone and left.

\---

Link was tired. 

He was free. He’d been free for a week, and it still didn’t feel real. He should be happy, this was practically the only thing he’d wished for the past four years. (And goddesses, that had been a shock. It didn’t feel like it’d been four years at all, somehow the time he’d spent imprisoned and tortured felt shorter and at the same time so much longer.) But so much was wrong. The disaster he’d seen in visions was on its way to becoming a reality, Demise had attacked, the city was in ruins.

Orville wouldn’t talk to him. 

He hadn’t been sure for a while. Those first few moments (those first few days) after his chains were broken had been hectic. Orville had given him his sword on his knees. He met Link’s eyes then, his own filled with an overwhelming emotion Link couldn’t put words to. Or maybe he was just projecting his own feelings. 

His sword no longer felt light to him; maybe it was his weakened state or time affecting his memory, but it had a weight to it that it didn’t before. His arms shook with the strain of it and it wasn’t long before someone had to take it from him. Orville really was incredible; He couldn’t tell that the sword had ever been broken.

They gave him his old clothes. They hung loosely on him before someone fixed them to match his new body. He knew he’d become thin and frail in his captivity, but seeing such a clear difference between who he was before and who he was now was startling.

Then he was standing before a crowd of people. He was standing before the beloved land he’d missed so much. He didn’t think he could believe in people the same way he used to. They changed too much, _He_ had changed too much. But the mountains still stood proud in the sun. He remembered thinking he wanted to climb them again, before becoming all too aware of the weakness in his limbs.

And then, there was the goddess Hylia. She’d come down on a bright red bird. (And he could imagine what Orville would say to him talking like that to a divine bird, except _Orville wasn’t talking to him_ .) She gave him a sword, one so different from the one Orville had given him. For a moment he was sure that it would burn or shatter in his hand, something to say ‘no, this one isn’t worthy’. Instead, this one sang when he wielded it, he could practically _feel_ the blade pulsing with holiness like a heartbeat.

Or maybe he was hallucinating that. Wouldn’t be the first time his mind played tricks on him. (Was all of this a trick? A dream? Would he wake up to shackles on his wrists and ankles? He could think of better dreams to have.)(He could think of worse.)

The makeshift army that’d been gathered began assembling tents among the ruined edges of the city. He’d expected it to hurt, seeing what had once been his home torn apart. Instead, he felt nothing. He hadn’t felt much of anything since he’d been freed, and he wondered if his time in prison had broken something in him.

Hylia spent most days by his side. Letting him lean on her when his legs failed him, using her power to ease the worst of his pains, helping him through the exercises the most experienced healer, a man named Garbhan, led him through every day. They were exhausting and painful. But Demise was coming, and he needed to at least hold a sword steady. If Garbhan said this physical therapy would help, then so be it. 

Even with the goddess’ support, it only made Orville’s absence felt all the more. He didn’t know what was wrong. Had something happened in the past few years to change his friend that much?

... _Were_ they still friends?

It’d been four years after all. A lot could change.

The thought that Orville may have changed to the point of not wanting anything to do with him filled him with something deep and terrifying. Like the world was large and empty, yet closing in. 

Every time he’d imagined getting out, Orville had been at his side. He’d never pictured anything different. Being in a reality where he wasn’t there was like a punch to the gut. Orville wasn’t dead, he was _right there_ , but it sometimes felt like he was grieving for him. Maybe neither of them could be the same as four years ago, but he didn’t care. Link just wanted his friend back.

Link didn’t know what to do to get Orville to talk to him. He didn’t know what was wrong, or how to fix it. Was it something Link had done? Something he _hadn’t_ done? Something that had happened while he was in prison, something he missed entirely?

As if sensing his brooding thoughts, Hylia had chosen that moment to settle a hand on his shoulder, shaking his attention back to reality.

“Come, Link. We should see Garbhan now.” Her voice was warm, and he let her pull him off the grass where he’d settled to watch the sky. He was regretting it now; laying down for so long left his body stiff and sore.

Hylia walked with him at his own pace as they made their way through the confusing rows of tents and makeshift shelters. Not all the people here now were even from this kingdom; borders didn’t matter much in the face of a demonic genocide, it seemed. Link wasn’t sure it would have mattered much either way. It turned out the king and many of the higher nobles had been killed in Demise’s attack. The ones taking charge now were experienced soldiers, who looked for direction from the goddess once she had appeared and, strangely, Link. 

Maybe it was because he was seen with Hylia so often, or because he’d foretold the disaster, but for some reason, Link noticed that he was given deference he hadn’t expected them to give a nearly crippled ex-prisoner. Or maybe it was the birthmark sitting just below his collar bone. 

A mark that singled him out as a ‘bearer of courage’ and ‘Farore’s chosen’. Once, he’d seen it as his calling to serve his land and his people. Now he saw it as a brand, a claim over his life and his destiny, and a burden he had no escape from. It hadn’t seemed to mean much to people before except as a sign he’d make a good knight, but it wasn’t a well-kept secret and perhaps people saw it differently now that his omens proved true.

He tried not to think about it too much. Mark or not, reluctance or not, he had chosen this role on his own many times over the course of his life, most recently when he accepted that sword from Hylia. Mostly though, he was just tired. He didn’t want to spend his time thinking about things that didn’t make a difference in the end.

Link didn’t lean on Hylia’s offered arm this time. He wanted to try and make it on his own power, even if it took a bit longer.

Out of the corner of his eye, Link knew Hylia was frowning. “You know I don’t mind if you lean on me? It’s alright if you need help, it’s barely been a week.”

Link said nothing, focusing on putting one trembling leg in front of the other. She sighed, accepting that he was determined.

Finally, they reached the area where Garbhan had set things up for his exercises and was waiting. It was a clear and open area, but closed in by tents on all sides so that it almost felt like a tent itself.

Of course the moment his goal was in sight, Link’s body betrayed him. He didn’t know what he tripped over, his own feet probably, but the next moment he was sprawled on the ground. His side was cold and wet; he’d landed himself in a puddle.

He heard Hylia cry out in surprise, and Garbhan had crossed the few steps between them in a moment. Link envied the ease in his walk.

Garbhan helped Hylia stand him upright. “Are you alright?” He asked as he dropped Link into the chair that had been meant for exercises. Link’s body was too weak for him to argue the action.

“I’m fine,” he said at the same time Hylia interrupted. 

“He walked the whole way here himself.” Her tone was noticeably disapproving. Link felt a bit betrayed.

Garbhan’s eyes narrowed. It would have been intimidating from a man of his size and gait if Link hadn’t seen worse than a disgruntled physician. Still, he could always make Link’s exercises more difficult than they needed to be, so it was best to tread carefully.

“Pushing yourself too far too soon will only hurt your recovery. You shouldn’t be walking that kind of distance yet. Give yourself time to heal.”

“Nobody knows when he’s going to come,” Link pushed out with his hoarse voice, not bothering to mention Demise by name, “I need to be able to fight when he comes, and I can’t even take a walk without collapsing.”

Garbhan sighed. “I’m not helping you just so you can fight, Link. You deserve to live for your own sake, too.”

A raspy sound between a laugh and a scoff escaped before Link could stop it. “It’s why I’m here though, isn’t it? They think I’m the only one who can finish the job, so they let me out. Can you promise me that they wouldn’t have just left me there if I refused them?” Link doesn’t think they would’ve, not with Orville there. But then again apparently he doesn’t know Orville as well as he used to.

Garbhan’s lips thinned. He knew those types of men too well to make a promise like that, and he didn’t lie.

Instead, he said “We’ll skip exercises today. Some rest could be good for you.” It felt like all he’d been doing lately was resting, but he held that comment back.

“I’m going to my tent then.” There had been some talk at first about getting him a place in the actual city, but he insisted on being with the rest of the army. He was going to need to fight eventually, and if he couldn’t hold a sword he’d at least know what was happening until he could.

He pushed himself off the chair, pulling on Garbhan a bit to get there.

“Do you want me to come with?” Hylia asked. Link just shook his head and walked past, his throat worn out from so much talking. He was grateful she didn’t follow him, though he suspected if his tent wasn’t so close by design she would’ve helped him there no matter what he said.

The tent really was close, and he’d never been more grateful for that. His legs didn’t give out on him, thank goodness, though his wet shirt felt more uncomfortable with each step. If he had collapsed right then he wasn’t sure he’d have the will to pick himself up again, and he really wanted to change into something dry.

In no time at all he’d pulled his shirt over his head and was about to fling it to the ground when he heard a startled “Oh!” from behind him.

He turned his head so fast he heard something in his neck crack. He knew that voice.

Orville was standing in his tent flap.

\---

“Oh!” The first thing Orville registered when he entered Link’s tent was that it wasn’t, in fact, empty. 

It was _Link_. Shit. Maybe he should’ve taken more time to consider Link might be in his own tent.

“Sorry, I didn’t--” the ‘expect anyone to be here’ never left his mouth as he simultaneously realized that Link was shirtless with his bare back to Orville, and the state of his back.

Link turned to face him and Orville tried to process what he’d seen.

Scars. Rows of long strips layered over one another, some clearly older than others. One row of three particularly nasty ones hooked over his left shoulder. Orville felt sick as he realized Link was whipped, multiple times. And not with anything like the leather strap they’d been bruised with after one of their attempted thefts either. The whetstone fell from his hand.

He felt his eyes burn. “I’m sorry.” His voice cracked and he buried his head in his hands to hide his tears. “I’m so, so sorry, Link.” If he’d tried to attack the soldiers that day, would this have still happened? Would Link not have had to go through so much pain if Orville had just willed himself to _move_ at that moment? “I did this…”

He struggled to even out his breaths.

“Orville.” Link’s voice was still rough, but hearing it made Orville hold his breath.

He felt more than saw Link move toward him. Link took his hands and gently pulled them away from his face.

Suddenly Link’s body slumped against his, Link’s face buried into his shoulder. Orville took this moment to become _very_ aware that Link was still half naked and holding his hand.

“I missed you…” Link’s muffled voice was thick with emotion. Orville could tell he was crying too.

Shit. _Shit_. Orville had been so worried about facing Link he hadn’t considered Link’s feelings at all. He hadn’t even thought about how Link would take his avoidance until now. He’d been horribly selfish, hadn’t he.

Orville let his body lose its tension and used the hand not still tangled in Link’s to pull him into a hug. “I missed you too.” 

Later, they would need to talk. But for now they could just be content that they were together.

**Author's Note:**

> This actually started out as a two-page comic, but I ended up with more ideas than would fit so I wrote this instead. I may or may not actually finish that comic, depends on if my motivation decides to visit me again.
> 
> Big thanks to the Linked Universe Discord server, I found so many like-minded First lovers there!
> 
> And especially to Sylv for beta reading for me


End file.
